Life Unexpected
by Miss Peg
Summary: Four months after Ripley died, Vic is learning to cope in the world without him. Life at Station 19 is getting back to normal. Until a surprise visitor arrives, and everything changes once more.


**Author Note: I opened the floodgates and fic ideas keep coming out. It's a good job I'm currently unemployed, because it's giving me plenty of time to write. In between applying for jobs and attending interviews. Don't worry, I know I have three stories on the go. I've always been one for having multiple stories going at once. I have time. I have motivation. We're good.**

**Disclaimer: Station 19 is not mine. I just play at being a firefighter.**

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The bookcases tilted at a precarious angle over the sleeping infant. By the time Hughes and Miller arrived in the room, the nanny was sobbing uncontrollably. Hughes glanced at Miller, who looked back.

"Don't worry, we'll make sure she's safe," Hughes said, resting a hand on the woman's shoulder. She nodded.

Miller stepped in front of the bookcases beside Hughes, and together they pushed them back against the wall. Within seconds, the nanny rushed forward and scooped the little girl into her arms.

"Thank you, so much, I can't believe…" her voice disappeared into continued sobs as she cradled the baby.

"You're welcome." Miller moved her slowly away from the danger zone. "You should probably get someone to secure the bookcases to the wall. You're damn lucky they were wedged in place. If it wasn't for the walls, or each other, they'd have gone straight down."

"I will. I'll speak to the family." She nodded her head profusely. The baby started to cry. "Right away."

"Best stay out of this room until it's done," Hughes said, leaning towards the baby and stroking her cheek. Her face, contorted in anguish, quickly changed to a smile and she giggled softly. Hughes grinned back, sticking out her tongue.

The nanny shifted the baby's position against her hip, as she walked them out of the front door. "Do you have kids?"

"_No_." Hughes shrugged. "No. None."

"Shame. You're really good with her."

As they headed for the engine, a car pulled up and a woman ran towards the house, looking hysterical. Miller pressed his lips together, until they sat down in their seats in the engine and he burst out laughing.

"_You're really good with her_," he said in a high pitched tone.

Hughes smacked him across the arm. "Shut up."

X

Back at the station, Hughes and Montgomery were out the front by the ladder. Montgomery pushed the trolley full of oxygen tanks along the side. Hughes opened the door and picked up a bottle, placing it on the shelf. She turned back to Montgomery and sighed.

"He was mocking me," she said, picking up a second bottle.

Montgomery raised an eyebrow. "Vic, it's Dean. We all mock each other all the time."

She placed the bottle beside the first and went to pick up another one. "This was…different."

"Why?"

"I don't…I dunno."

She didn't know what was going on with her lately but every time she saw a baby it made her feel…something. It wasn't that she felt ready to be a parent, on the contrary. She was only ever going to marry Ripley because fate had decided that it was the only way they could be together, which made it feel right. She wanted to be with him, and that was all that mattered in that moment.

Until he died.

"Wrong shelf," Montgomery said, pointing at the red capped bottle. "You know your caps, you've schooled me on this before."

She rolled her eyes and retrieved the bottle, placing it on the correct shelf. "When Michael died, did you ever think about what your future should have been like?"

"Like daydreaming?"

She closed the doors on the ladder and walked through the station door to the engine. Montgomery followed, pushing the trolley behind her. "No. More picturing your life, like it could still happen."

"Yeah. All the time. I still do it now, occasionally."

It comforted her to know it wasn't just her, that her feelings, whatever they were, were normal. She pulled on the handle and opened the engine doors. "Just red caps."

He handed her a bottle. "Wanna tell me what you've been thinking about?"

"Babies." She locked eyes with him as she said it, searching for his first response, before he had time to process it. But he was difficult to read. She placed the bottle on the shelf. He still didn't speak, which sent her into overdrive. "I don't want a baby, not right now, but I can't stop thinking about them. Or if I see them I have to act like I know what the hell I'm doing. I don't know why. I haven't pictured myself having kids for years yet. It's freaking me out."

"Miller mocking you interacting with the baby pissed you off."

"Exactly."

"I used to think about babies."

She smiled and turned to face him. "You did?"

"About a year after. We'd talked about whether wanted a family before we got married and we always said it'd be a few years. After Michael died, it eventually felt like it would have been the right time. But he wasn't here anymore."

"It passes, though, right?"

"Should do." Montgomery walked around the trolley and started filling the shelf.

Hughes stepped to one side. "Thanks, Trav."

"Anytime."

X

The team sat around the table, passing bread and bowls of soup around until everyone was eating and chatting. Hughes sat in silence, watching the team go about their usual meal break. She dipped some bread into her soup and bit off a soggy piece. Some days it felt like everything was right with the world, and for the first time in a while, today was one of those days.

"You okay?" Montgomery asked, leaning in close.

She nodded. "Peachy."

"I can't believe Warren's gone," Gibson said, placing the newly filled bread plate in the centre of the table and sitting back down with a piece of bread. "Really thought he wasn't gonna make it to Medic One after what happened with the wildfire. I guess they just needed more time."

Miller placed his spoon into his empty bowl and folded his arms. "They saw he was the right person for the job in the end, that's all that matters."

"I'm gonna miss him," Bishop said, sitting back against her chair. "Though I won't miss how much his socks smelled when he took off his boots."

The team was changing. For a long while it had been the same. Then Captain Herrera left, Captain Sullivan joined, and they had just started finding a new normal when he went on extended leave. Hughes missed him, more than she expected.

"Hopefully Sullivan's back before the new recruit starts." Hughes picked up her bowl and piled it on top of Miller's, then carried them to the dishwasher. "He said he's supposed to be getting out of rehab any day."

"You…you talked to him?" Herrera asked, her eyebrows tugged together.

Hughes shrugged and filled the dishwasher. "We talk sometimes. Mostly about Ripley."

X

Hughes put some wax onto her cloth and rubbed it on the fire engine's door. Each methodical movement was relaxing. She used to hate cleaning the engine, but since Ripley died, it gave her time to think, and process. She counted the number of movements it took to clean each panel, focusing on the task, on the action, on the feel of the cloth in her hand. She could hear Miller and Bishop upstairs in the gym, pounding the punching bag. Herrera was on the phone. Montgomery and Gibson were out getting supplies. There was a sense of calm over the station, and though she knew it could be interrupted at any moment, it felt good.

"Hey."

She turned, the cloth dropped from her hand. A man stood in the doorway, his sandy blond hair hung loose over the front of his head, scattered with soft curls. His eyes, piercing blue, made his whole face stand out as utterly beautiful. But it was the similarity to the man she loved that made her step back, colliding with the engine. She slipped and landed on the floor.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." He walked toward her. She was alone in the barn with someone she didn't know. His close proximity should have frightened her, but she felt instantly comfortable in his presence.

She shook her head and accepted his hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. It couldn't be. Ripley was dead. But her heart thrummed against her chest, and her whole body felt like she'd been sucker punched in the gut. She opened her mouth to speak but no words formed.

"Seriously, I'm sorry." He frowned. Her lack of words made him confused. She could see it on his face. On his Ripley-like face.

Hughes finally found her voice, but it cracked as she spoke. "Who, who, who are you?"

He held out his hand again and she went to shake it, hesitating before her fingers could touch his once more. The crease between his eyebrows only deepened as he lowered his hand. "Christopher Anderson."

"Right." She shrugged, trying to push aside the confusion forcing its way through her already broken heart. "Who…what are you…why are you here?"

"I'm looking for Victoria Hughes; do you know where I might find her?"

The first sucker punch hit her again. Her whole body felt like it was about to give up. She couldn't breathe. It had been months since Ripley's death. Four, to be exact. Every day felt that little bit easier. Until something happened and it was like taking ten steps back.

"I…that…me…that's me. I'm Victoria Hughes." She cleared her throat. "Who are you again?"

His face softened into a gentle smile, so like Ripley's that Hughes wanted to turn tail and run out of the room. The closer she looked, the more she could see that he was not identical to the love of her life. But the familiarity in the way he moved his face cut deep. Her heart couldn't cope with the pain. Not now. Not today. She bent down and picked up her cloth, anything to distract her for the briefest moment.

"You don't know me, and I don't know you," he said, holding out his hands as he spoke. "But I heard about you from…my aunt, I guess. Jennifer."

The revelation shouldn't have surprised her. Hughes had seen it the second he walked in. How much he was like him. She just didn't really expect that he could be, in any way, related.

"I'm Lucas Ripley's son."

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**Author Note: I really appreciate any connections made with people reading my stories. Whether you favourite/follow, comment, or just read it. Thank you.**


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